my dad

taken in 1990, in cuba

my dad did a lot of different jobs over the years…when i was a kid in toronto he worked at the goodyear plant. when we moved to new brunswick (i was 4) he and my mum both got jobs at the provincial hospital…a large mental health institution in campbellton. my parents split up for the first time when i was 11 and dad split to ajax, ontario…i can’t for the life of me recall what he did for a living while he was there but after he left, mum moved the family to niagara falls. don’t ask me why!

i turned twelve just after we got there and a few months later dad and mum got back together. dad had a friend who drove a coffee truck and got into that business…cruising around to industrial sites all over niagara falls. i used to love going with him in spite of the 4 am start and the 12 hour day.

he did the coffee truck thing for a few years and then landed a job with c.u.p.e. as an area rep…the catch was we had to move to cornwall, ontario.

it was probably the best job my dad ever had and by all accounts he was good at it.

i stayed in cornwall for 3 days then split back to niagara and my girlfriend, eventually getting a foundry job.

a few years later, mum and dad split again – this time for good. dad re-married and they had a son together.

dad and i had a rather strained relationship for many years…probably because of my drug taking and stuff but when i was about 22 i worked real hard at re-opening the lines of communication and with the help of his wife sue, managed to bridge the gap that come between us. when it came time to baptise their son cory(my new little brother) they asked me to be his godfather.

something i am still very proud of.

dad, sue, cory and sue’s son from her first marriage – billy, came to visit me in australia when my oldest boy was about 8 months old…they loved it there and we loved having them but it only lasted six short weeks and i never saw him alive again.

the saddest thing is that the boys will never know him…he was so great with kids!

i love you dad. i miss you. i still don’t understand

love poems 1

here are some of the poems that i have written to my love, kera …

in no particular order

how many lovers can meet on the head of a pin?

kera…

the future is meant to be like the horizon
a fixed distance away
never nearer
never here

but somehow since i met you
it gets closer every day

the joy of sharing my life with you
the wonder of you sharing
your life with me

this is beauty in it’s purist form
right up there with the sunrise
the sunset
and children…yours and mine

how does perfection get any better?
what could possibly last longer than eternal love?
is this what they meant when they said
“we could have danced forever and a day!”?

peace, love and how many lovers can dance on the head of a pin?
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

scenes of you and i

one page

‘borrowed’ from the barman
to explore the love of two women

there’s the memory that has haunted me
of a love that used to be
a yearning that pulled me around the world
and back again

a youthful love
glossed over by time and space
anything but forgotten
intangible but,…somehow real

tentatively touching, reality sets in
ghosts are set free to question
the answers to the questions
that time and space set free

and the wonderful moment that is now

the remarkable woman that is you

draw me deeper
every line etched with loving detail
each colour
more vibrant than the next
the last
the shading…the perspective…

just right

sublime

peaceful scenes of love
of you and i
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

metaphoric meanderings

this heart needs a little t.l.c.
and a lot of work
i would be…

honoured…
for you to accept it
with my deepest love
and utter trepidation

you can use it
to hold the door open to my love

peace, love and metaphoric meanderings

(this was written to accompany the gift of a heartshaped doorstop that i made)
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

other momentous occasions

again
you touch me

still
i long

now
you replenish me
here
again
still

…now

peace, love and other momentous occasions
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

clearing the cobwebs from my mind

the hazy glaze of sleepy eyes
and the warm glow of morning embraces
are a great combination
for sharing a newspaper
or discussing dream homes
and other aspirations

but when it comes
to the written word…
whether it be
expressions of love
thoughts on the nature of humanity
or a letter to mum…

not so easy!

peace, love and clearing the cobwebs from my mind
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

more love

just a quick note to say

i love you

that’s about it really…

i love you

peace, love and more love
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

here i come

i am not quite sure
why i am in here writing
while you lay naked
on the other side of that wall

i’m pretty sure it’s because
you need your sleep
and i’m not sure you’d get any
if i were there beside you

or it might be the coffee
(i had a fair bit today)
whatever my reasons…
no matter how i explain it

i must be stupid

peace, love and here i come
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

abundance

i give thanks
each and every day
for the opportunity
to share your life with you

with your warmth
your humour
your drive and determination
you are a delight to be near

you are an admirable woman kera
and i am proud to be your partner

thanks for your faith
your friendship
and your love

peace and love in abundance
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

learning to love legibly

the letters i write
for you
barely scratch the surface
of the pages of our life together

but…

sometimes
fears and doubts
seem to obscure my words of love
and desire
smudging them
with feelings of unworthiness
and ancient pain

please be patient
look deeper
and know that they are there

you are indelibly etched
upon my heart
and nothing could ever erase that

peace, love and learning to love legibly
- © copyright 2000 ian a backs. all rights reserved worldwide.

 

for some of you that might not seem like such a big deal but for me…

…it’s like this:

as recently as 1999, i considered my self to be firmly planted in the luddite camp – well and true!
a source of pride it was.

by the end of 2000, it truly had become a new millenium for me.
new love. new home(and we’re talking mortgage here)
and new computer.

now it’s the begining of 2003 and as i pause to reflect i realise that i have a sort of ”i am repulsed but i can’t look away’ thing going on.

really.

i mean the whole access to information thing is awesome at times. don’t get me wrong on that but…
some of this information – i don’t want it.

the whole hacker, spam, computer virus thing…what is that?

and those little sideways smilie things…you know – they look like this – :) …they annoy me almost as much as knowing that someone out there has chihuahua/pommeranian cross puppies for sale and seemed to fully expect to get $400.00 for each

first of all… if math was as great as all our teachers led us to believe then .
crossing a chihuahua with a pomeranian would cancel them both out.

you should have to pay $400.00 each to offload them.

but i digress.

anyway, much as i have a disdain for some of the elements of the web…it can be a useful tool and i feel the need to drive some traffic to my website and it would seem that webrings can help do that

so i have joined the fathersworld webring and judging by what i’ve seen of the other sites involved, it will do nothing to soften my cynicism about society, governments, divorce courts or life in general.

but who knows?

 

someone asked me when i was last happy…

 

i wouldn’t have a clue when i was last ‘happy?

…oh i’ve laughed…
‘were it not for my sense of humour i’d have committed suicide long ago’ – gandhi

…but the quick answer to am i unhappy? would have to be an undisputed no.
anyone who knows me would probably nod agreement.
have i ever been happy?
there are moments…particularly when zac and simon were physically in my life…when i was very happy.

but my inner sorrow predates even the birth of my children
it lay there – if not dormant – unrecognised
… undefined
…uncomfortable.

i thought i was just doing drugs cause they were cool but hindsight tells me there’s more to it than that.

so when my kids came along, i thought i was happy but when my dad did what he did…

well, i began to realise that i wasn’t

getting j back into my life countered the profound sadness i carried regarding my seperation from my children – quite well…for a time.

i was unable to help him through his very short seperation from his children – his wife – the weight of years away from my own was too great. and now the burden of not helping. not ‘being there’ in the way that i should have!

could have!

would have, had i realised he was so far gone.

i would have held his hand and sang him lullabies if that’s what it took
i didn’t think j capable of getting so low. so lost.

and maybe he only got lost to me.
to us
maybe he found something
i can’t pretend to know

my other relationships are all kinda fucked up

are they salvageable? – i’d like to think so.

are they worth fixing? – yeah… each and every one of them.

i try every day to make a fresh start…that’s part of why i stopped smoking dope every day.

i used to think i was doing it to cope with stuff but really it was stoppping me from dealing with stuff and moving on.
i’m trying to move on.

moreso than ever i have before.

playing hockey…when i played goal (road hockey) that dozen or so times in five or six weeks just prior to starting this job…i came away stoked.

playing with my children, cooking for my children, coaching their sports teams…i was truly happy.

when kera and i connected…i was very happy…it had only been a few weeks since i had last seen the boys.

i have become much less of a joy to be around over the ensuing time…i made kera’s christmas a miserable event last year – that was before the 24th!

before ‘that’

………………………………………..

and now it’s several months after i wrote the previous and i realize that i never really broached the subject of being on anti depressants…

the first one i went on was ‘zyban’ the so-called quit smoking drug…it was supposed to make me feel better about my miserable life AND help me quit smoking…alas …it did neither.

then it was ‘effexor’ which most of you would have heard of…it never felt quite right while i was on it…wierd little electric rushes and a strange taste in my mouth…i didn’t much like it so i stopped taking it and the symptoms got worse…way worse!

i’m not talking about the depression symptoms but the electric rushes and the bad taste in the mouth…serious rushes that i might have paid money for about 20 years ago but had no interest in at 39.

there were some pretty hairy moments when i stopped taking effexor…it seemed that while it quelled my feelings of sadness…not to mention my sex drive …it put it’s full support behind my anger.

-whew!

i don’t much like me angry-
and neither did the missus, which why she didn’t make a fuss for long when i stopped taking it.

here’s a point i should make…i took effexor as long as i did because i knew that if i didn’t make a change i was going to drive her away…it wasn’t working but it was all i knew how to do.

remeron to the rescue…this one was ok…ish

remeron has apparently been available in europe for some time (and we all know what a happy lot they are in europe – especially in eastern europe, eh) and the side effects were minimal….at first.

it has a slight sedative effect that i liked. in fact i needed it. no adverse effects on my sex drive – which i counted as a plus, though my wife might disagree…but after a while it began to feel like i was witnessing my own emotions through some sort of forcefield or something…like a condom to keep my emotional ejaculate from making a mess all over my life.

it didn’t stop me from going through the process of being sad but it just didn’t ‘feel’ the same.

about 4 months ago i missed taking them a couple of days in a row…i was working midnights and my schedule had been thrown off. i decided to try going it on my own…no pills…i figured that since i had lots of them left, i could go back on them at any time if i needed to and so far…

i’m good.

i still have a bit of a cry most days…the pain i feel in missing my children won’t go away til well after i have them in my daily life again but…i dunno…

i’m good.

dope

i have mentioned on other pages that i have smoked dope. i even inhaled. i can’t remember if i said anything about the fact that i am currently abstaining from dope smoking but given the amount i have puffed over the years, the fact i don’t remember shouldn’t come as a surprise.

but i digress

certain factions within the canadian government are considering the decriminalization of marijuana. i think that is a good thing.
if only because it pisses off the american government.

it’s none of their business.

besides, we’re talking about a plant here! where do we come off banning a plant? that’s just plain arrogant and unnatural.
i am disappointed in our religious leaders for not speaking out against the godless heathens who would dare to ban one of gods most useful gifts to humankind.

fuel, clothing, housing, food, stress relief – this little beauty can do it all!

but one arrogant, self-important country – with only the interests of it’s bloated fatcats in mind – feels they can dictate to the rest of the world what it can and cannot do with a plant that has no doubt been beautifying the landscapes of the planet since before we came down from the trees.

ugh.

the state of south australia decriminalized marijuana years ago and guess what…people there behave themselves…young people there are no more likely to smoke dope than they are in other australian states and they certainly don’t have the heroin problems that new south wales (to the east) experiences.

trafficking is still illegal and the punishment severe but the fine for not wearing a seatbelt is costlier than the one received for carrying an ounce or less of pot.

besides the local pot goes rather nicely with the great red wine available in the region.

in one of the vancouver papers the other day, a journalist cited a 19 year old ex-pot user who said that he started smoking dope at 12 and by 19 was addicted to hard drugs. he said pot shouldn’t be legalised because young people would think it’s ok to smoke it .

duh!

wasn’t it illegal when you started smoking it at 12 years of age josh?
it being illegal didn’t stop you from smoking it any more than it being legal will start you smoking it.

 

maybe if pot was decriminalised you might have been able to talk with your parents about it.

and as for the whole pot leads to harder drugs thing…my dad smoked dope but he didn’t turn on to smack.

buying $1.00 scratch tickets hasn’t led me to gambling addiction!
yeah, i dabbled in a few harder drugs but you know what…

low self esteem, peer pressure, boredom and basic curiosity are more likely to lead to the use of hard drugs than smoking dope.

i don’t think i have to point out how many more people are physically (and permanently) affected by the use and mis-use of alcohol…which, aside from their beer, americans make pretty well.

or how many people in canada are affected by american made guns and lax american gun laws?

i smoke 20 cigarettes a day and can’t seem to quit for love nor money…it’s killing me as sure as i am sitting here. there is no doubt that i am addicted.

i started smoking dope at age nine. by the time i was 15 i was smoking several joints a day but in my mid twenties when i decided i didn’t want to smoke it for a while…i stopped. no worries. no withdrawls.

no patches or gum or zyban or nothing.

when i took it back up when i was about thirty it helped me cope with the grief and loss i was experiencing after the deaths of half dozen relatives in a few short years…including my father.

and every day untill about two months ago…i smoked dope.

when i decided not to do it again – just because – i stopped. no withdrawals.

no patches or gum or zyban or nothing.

but none of those things helped me to kick the tobacco habit and i can buy that in the corner store and i have no idea what it is cured in or who grew it or anything like that.

the dope i smoke is invariably grown by a friend. is organic. and nobody is breaking their backs picking it at minimum wage.

i said it before and i will say it again…

it’s a plant…where do we come off banning a plant?

instalment 3 of backspin 15.2.03

ok, so there hasn’t been a whole lot of spin happenin on these pages.

how many months since i started this??? it would be nice to get paid to do this site eh…

but i have my reasons (folks that are behind schedule always do!)

reminds me of when i …

nice save by belfour!!

sorry, watching the game…t.o, ottawa…zip – zip with 3 left in the 1st.i

don’t usually write while i watch the game (or watch the game while i write for that matter) but with the house to my self for the weekend, and it being ‘hockey day in canada’ , i’m drinkin and smokin in the house watching nothing but hockey and sorting out some stuff for this restaurant i’m trying to get off the ground.

working out the wine list, costing the equipment – costing the entire start up actually.

i have to sit with my knees well away from the ‘iffy’ plastic table i’ve set my laptop on or there’s a danger of technological disaster when the leafs score.

notice i didn’t say ‘if’ the leafs score…

the essence of the true leaf fan is optimism

punch up…domi and neil…9 ceconds before the end of the first…what’s the point?

don cherry’s coming up

…………….

mr. cherry yabbered a bit about the 2010 referendum…or plebicite or whatever it’s called…he said ‘you know the treehuggers are gonna get out to vote against it so you gotta get out and vote for it”

he talked about the opprtunity to win hockey gold at home and i would have to agree.

i want tickets.

…………….

so i’m trying to get a restaurant off the ground…i don’t have any $ but i think i can create a ‘destination restaurant’ in a motel/conference centre here on the sunshine coast, any and all constructive input is welcome…just email me

i won’t bore you with the details on this page…
particularly since i have just been further distracted by toronto’s 1 st of the game (1 -0)

suffice to say, there’s alot to sort out…factor in the lack of $ and…well, it’s kind of daunting

when i’m ready to showcase the restaurant you’ll be able see by clicking … here there are links on that page to email your thoughts on starting a restaurant, wines etc…

back to the game…3rd period just started…1 – 0 toronto

3:30 am, monday december 2, 2002. sunnycrest mall.

i should probably not be sitting in the office writing so i hope my boss doesn’t read this.

uh…sorry derek – it won’t happen again.

i have got to admit, i haven’t really been following the paper that much of late, except the sports section, of course…oh, and the comics. but a couple of stories that have piqued my interest of late were the one about the federal communications officer that called george w bush a moron, and the canadian defence minister who was barred from getting on his flight because he’d had too much to drink.

each rather entertaining in their own right.

i think the fitting footnote to these stories would be to have the defence minister resign and replace him with the ousted communications officer…with her astute powers of observation, she would obviously be better suited to the defence minister’s position. while we’re at it, give the former defence minister the communications position. a few glasses of wine always make me a little more communicative.

could be a win/win!

 

of course the big news is that the leafs have managed to shake their slump and hit.500 for the first time since game 2 and the canucks have shattered the club record by winning a stunning 10 in a row(with no signs of letting up)

now if the other canadian teams could just pick up the pace a bit.

welcome to backs’spin.

backspin will do. this is where I see if I can get back on the horse we call writing.
which is so much better than getting back on the drug we call horse.

don’t you think?

…I’ve never actually been into to horses, or ‘horse’ for that matter but as I understand the rules, ‘creative licence’ allows for that sort of thing.

perhaps I will be forced to hang an ‘N’ plate on my laptop for being so reckless(that would be an ‘L’ plate for you aussies). would I have to have someone more responsible sitting next to me?
would I be permitted to write at night?
for now I will press on in the hopes that I don’t get pulled over.

I was thinking about making this a sort of current affairs column. you know, watch the news, read the papers – whatever – and put my ‘spin’ on it.

hence the title.

it occurred to me that in order to do that I would have to watch the news- read the papers.

whatever!

so today, as with any day, I’m just going to write about whatever.

whatever captures my attention and eludes my attempts to fully understand it.
whatever pops in to whatever is left of my mind.
whatever my fingers, my brain and my laptop can agree on.

I imagine I’ll write about trivial things like smoking or sports. I may even choose to combine the two and give my spin on the tobacco company sponsorship of sport.
I’ll probably touch on the sorts of things that touch us in our daily lives…friendships, families, the effect a bad cup of coffee can have on ones ‘being’.

sometimes I will have no choice but discuss grief, or joy, or even heaven or hell…

whatever?

I’ll poke fun at whatever moves and complain about it if it moves too quickly for me to catch it.

but whatever I write about I hope to entertain you, challenge you, even piss you off – if that’s what it takes to get the laugh, the tear, or whatever it is my muse is looking for.

whatever?

so long as I get to put a little backs’spin on it.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………..
so it’s wednesday…apparently it’s the 10th of july already and I don’t seem to recall more than a month or two going past so far this year.
what’s that about?

I’ve opened a take out cappuccino bar. we’re into day 4. who knows if it will work? we’ve already re-couped 1/5th of our initial investment. of course that adds up to about 65 bucks (they don’t call me economical ian for nothing)

it’s kinda cool and cozy but the whole getting up early thing doesn’t quite gel with my night owl status.

quel domage.

our house used to have a garage under the living room. the big door was removed and a wall with a couple of windows and a door replaced it. by all accounts the garage enjoyed the change.

that was well before we bought it. according to those in the know, it’s had multiple personalities over the years.

then we put our on spin on it.

it was a workshop, an office – then 2, then back to 1 office with a fooseball table in it. we got the pool table in there and it became the games room …pool tables have a tendency to take over the consciousness of any room and this one seems to be particularly vulnerable to suggestion.

so when the cappuccino machine showed up to visit (a sort of baby sitting thing for a friend) the room was easily convinced to turn pro.

and now it’s ‘the bean counter’.

caps, lattes, biscotti etc…shit we even do decaf, soy, iced cappuccinos – if that is what you want.
personally I’m wary of anything with too many commas in it’s name.

we’ve been open 3 hours so far today and we’ve had 2 customers…both before 7 am.

but I got to play some backgammon, a little fooseball, a couple of hands of solitaire.

I get to write and if you’re anywhere near pratt rd, in gibsons bc (home of the old and the new beachcombers) you get to come on in for a coffee

the first coffee is on me but be careful what you say…

I don’t want this room getting any ideas.

 

so I feel this ‘need’ to write. not like the last few times, when I wrote because I could…this is physical, tangible and not as much fun.
at least not yet anyway.

I woke up grumpy. not unusual by most standards really. particularly mine. there was this underlying thing, you know, when this no longer tiny voice shouts at you to ‘find a place where there won’t be any interruptions and get it done!’

I tend to listen when my life talks to me that way.
a lesson I learned from my mum…of course my wife helped the lesson stick.

in this case. for today. I decided to believe that the voice was referring to writing.

I put it off…got a few other things done…had an argument or two…you know?

now. I am on the deck of my mum’s illegal café, looking for a quiet place to write.

normally I would have found that here but nothing about this week, this month, this year… has been remotely normal.

yeah, yeah…all you hippies and punks will say ‘what’s normal?’
and so have i.
a long time ago, a 6 old (who would be about 25 now) said ‘normal is whatever you are’
I believe that…live that. it gets me thru all the turmoil of being different to other people and more importantly…it helps me deal with people who are different to me.

but when I showed up there were a bunch of ferals twirling stuff , playing hacky sac and dancing to that stuff ‘those people’ call music.

my mum hosting raves?

I mean, she’s always been the coolest mum on the block, in spite of her non-drug taking lifestyle. she reads the right stuff. listens to the right music. talks the talk.

but rave parties?

but I’m not here to rave about raves.
or to rant about rants, for that matter.
though I will say that joe’s rant about being Canadian is a-1 stuff.

I think I’m here to write about the s.c.r.d., or grief, or relationships.

or maybe I am here to write about ferals.

for one thing…I’m not sure anyone on the sunshine coast knows what I’m talking about when I refer to someone as a ‘feral’. not the b.c. sunshine coast anyway. the sunshine coast of queensland(Australia) on the other hand…it’s rife with ferals and those who are up with the vernacular.

interesting planet. particularly the ‘long pig’ that roams it’s surface claiming it as it’s own.
I refer, of course, to the white fellas among us.
or more accurately, the white fellas that came before us.

the fact that these ‘long pigs’, or white fellas, came so often, in so many different places with so many different faces, has enabled this wonderful planet of ours to dilute the white fellas seed to the point where we might just get through this thing we call evolution with our sanity intact.

what’s the point of evolving if you still end up in the rubber room?

but back to the task at hand.

it’d be nice to get the thought and – boom! – there it is on paper.
the best I can hope for is that I blurt it out…someone else writes it down as I do.
and later, who knows?
right now, I have to do the work and hope it pays off…knowing full well that most other times I’ve done the work my best case scenario has been that it didn’t ‘actually’ cost me.

ahh life! extreme sport at it’s best.

risk. I’ll have to use that as a search term and see what windows pop up.

I’ve had about 2/3 bottle of vino and bogarted a couple of joints since I started this.
I don’t have much left and there have been a lot of distractions. then there’s the need to be home at some point relatively soon…so many reasons not to write.

what is that??

what is it that I sat down, needing to write about?

maybe I just needed to write for the sake of writing?

 

 

 

 

 

so the cappuccino bar…
another time, perhaps.

it’s poetry time

those last few hauls on a smoke
like the last kiss
before we go off to war
against the inner monster
that tells us to light up

or maybe it’s a different sort of beast

maybe the voice that we think is saying
light up!
is really saying
lighten up!

maybe…

 

the pressure of writing because I think it’s the only way left for me to make money…the only way to evolve with my sanity intact…well…that’s a bit much.

especially given that the money I need. I needed yesterday…the day before.
how long till I write well enough -enough!- to actually make money?
shit. I don’t know the first thing about selling written arts.

where do I go?
what do I bring?
how do I know they aren’t going to rip me off, yank my chain, or worse…reject me?
ok, I can be pretty sure of the rejection.

but seriously…I don’t even know I’m not going to get shit for the time I’m spending, not earning, doing this now.

the wine’s not going to help my case.

and what if no one wants to read it?

…yesterday, someone I was with…a bass player – stand up guy – stepped away from the table for a few seconds. I noticed, in my periphery, that he was blowing his nose. I commented that it was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like to blow my nose in public. the other person at the table remarked that she too, disliked the whole public blowing of the nose thing. I was heartened by that revelation. about 15 years ago I wrote that while I didn’t like to evacuate my sinuses in public, I didn’t mind emitting gasses while I was out and about.
I wrote in a different style, without the deference to less inured sensibilities but it means pretty well the same thing today except now, I don’t feel so different, so …different.

part way through this exercise, I searched some discs for some stuff I’d planned on piecing together a first draft out of.

the floppy labeled ‘ian’s writing’ contained a prototype of a flash movie I made for someone’s website.

not even the finished product…a prototype.

I just reformatted my hard drive so I’m kinda hoping that somewhere…accessible by me…there are copies of the work I’d hoped to find.

I reckon there are enough pieces…if I can get my segways working.. to make a whole story.

let’s hope I have enough horses and men to put this particular egg together.

in the interim…let’s look at a different story…a different time.

 

ok, lets look at a different story…a different time. I feel it fair to warn you. however, that this isn’t necessarily a nice story. I don’t think it’d be rated ‘R’ or anything…probably pg though.

it would’ve been the ’80… ’81.
Kensington market.

my whole life had some how taken me to that place and time but because I’d forget which story I’m trying to tell long before I could finish the prologue, I won’t bore you with those details.

we’re having a garage sale. it’s a sunday, so the folks at Kensington silver studios say we can have it there front yard, since they weren’t going to be open anyway.

we get up early…like real early given the types of nights we had…smoke some oil, sort through a bunch of stuff and cart everything down to the bottom of Kensington ave to set up shop.
actually, a lot more sorting took place once we were down the street, cos’ I remember finding these little hand-held baggie scales that I’d never seen before…they didn’t sell so I shoved them into my pockets at the end of the day.

ahh yes, the day…so ½ hour after we’re done setting up and we aren’t sure if we’re stoned or sleeping, until a friend happens along with some speed.

ok, so we’re stoned.

the next several hours are filled with gratuitous sex and drug use, with a sound track of the dead kennedy’s and free enterprise at it’s finest.

when it’s over…we go out to party after a hard day in the retail industry.

we start easy, at the tropical paradise on augusta. backpack with a cooler full of beer…one of those big cold drink ones with the spigot on the front, like you can get from mcdonalds for community event. canvas backpack had a little hole that the spigot fit through…we’d each order 1…refills on demand.

this place was living up to it’s name…it was heatwave in t.o…sitting out in the sun, sucking them back.. at that time you got a little slice of everything at the tropical paradise. punks, Vietnamese, Portuguese, Jamaicans, painters, poets, actors and panhandlers.

but we were coming into week three of the heatwave and even if we didn’t realize it yet, it was all about to boil over.

sun’s almost ready to set…we’re thinking it’s all good and then some bozos, in a passing van, yell some stuff that contributed to the ‘pg’ rating.
I mean, the stuff they said to, and about, the women we were with, offended the sensibilities of most of the people sitting there.

I didn’t respond well. shit no one did. I responded quickly – just not…well.

I handed off my beer, to the person nearest me and launched my self over the rail at the vanfull of bozos. with cars ahead of them on augusta, they could only drive so fast…I guess they hadn’t thought it through…I kicked the right side of the van a half dozen times before they got a clear run.

as I turned to walk back to my beer, and the cheers of all who shared my outrage…a car swerved toward me and more impolite words echoed in my ears.

only this time, before I’m even aware of what’s happening, a punk on a bike rides up to the car and starts thumping it with a heavy chain. the car tears up the street toward college with the punk on the bike right behind him, I head left on oxford in case they double back.

they do.

suddenly I’m sliding backwards down the street with the front end of a moving car in my hands.

up over the curb, they stop when they hit the no parking sign. I jump up from where I’d been dumped on my ass and run round to the drivers door…windows open about a 6 inch gap…I reached in and grabbed his jacket and his hair and whatever else I could grab with my left hand, and with my right hand pulling at the window…I yanked him out of his car and proceeded to give him ‘death by lecture’

I don’t remember how long it went on…I was pretty pissed off so it probably a while..
any way.. so this crowd starts to gather…a few people from the t.p…neighbourhood folks…a couple of the moonies were peering out the window of the reverends Toronto hangout… I keep on lecturing till someone hits me from behind.

I didn’t respond very well to that either.

it turns out that while I was doing the lecture circuit, a portugeuse wedding party was just vacating the hall around the corner and some of these fellas knew those fellas and well, again with the ‘pg’rating

I’m remembering that this isn’t a particularly nice story, I know, I mention that but you know what…I’d rather write a poem or smoke a joint than finish that story right now. there’s a little more violence yet to come and …well..i’m just not in the mood.
I’ll get back to that story, honest I will…it doesn’t end there, or even up the street with sue handing out sticks as we ran into the apartment to even the odds(about 15 to 1 before we got sticks)
it didn’t even end when the cops had kicked me a few times after I snorted 2 bennies in my cell.
or when we …

seriously…I’d rather write a bad poem than tell any more stories of violence…besides this story is visual…how do I tell this visual…surreal story with just words??

I have this whiskey and this laptop and damn it! I want to write something that feels like it’s working. as I was writing that other stuff I kept thinking of olivers response when I told it to him…his distaste for it.

second guessing my reasons for telling it made it difficult to tell as much as I did.

and here I am, pushin’ 40
pushin 40
there’s a poem to write!
what did I learn in my day
that’ll get me through my night?

pushin’ 40
pushin’ 40
they say that’s when it starts
of course I don’t know who ‘they’ are
and ‘they ‘ didn’t tell my heart

and dare I say again?
I’m pushin’ 40
and I still feel like a kid
more worried about what I’m gonna do
instead of what I did.

 

sometimes all the whiskey in the world
can’t bring out the words ye seek
sometimes all the bad stuff
happens in one week

and sometimes if I try real hard
I can forget how sad I am
but all the counseling in the world
can’t make anchovies taste like jam